Locked
by TurtlePornYolo
Summary: "My soul, in some time and place, in some capacity or the other, has been entwined with yours, Harry." Tom continues, voice low; inviting even. "If that is not a connection, I do not know what is." An odd relationship told in a collection of one shots and head cannons. TMR/HP
1. Close To You

**Why do stars fall down from the sky**  
 **Every time you walk by?**  
 **Just like me, they long to be**  
 **Close to you**  
 **-The Carpenters**

Time had stopped and so did his breathing. His fingers glided against the rough parchment, scanning the written words in utter disbelief. It was a cycle and he couldn't stop himself, he refused to allow himself to absorb the words. He wanted it to be a dream, a nightmare he could easily escape from back into reality. But it wasn't, and so he finally took his breath; releasing the sheet from his grasp. His knees buckled beneath him and he allowed himself to collapse in vulnerability. He sucked in a harsh breath as his lips quivered, feeling the rapid beating speed in his chest. His eyes prickled and his vision blurred, just like his reality. It wasn't clear anymore, it was foggy. There was an emptiness in his chest that he never had the chance to notice. It was painful, and he felt torn apart. He clenched his eyes closed. His body trembled and he cried out with fingers clasping his mouth.

He couldn't live anymore, he couldn't see a future where he could ever possibly revert back to his usual self again. He couldn't fake it anymore, not without the one thing that managed to fill the empty gap within him. Not without the only thing that stopped him from doing the things he knew would hurt him. And now that it was gone- that they were gone, he was incomplete again. He was missing the last piece to his puzzle.

Life didn't had the same importance as it use to, he couldn't see it anymore. It was simply a blank space. Everything that he had worked for crumbled in a swift blow. He wanted to explode, throw a crucio at the next living thing in sight. But it wasn't that simple, and he was heavily conflicted.

And it happened again.

Just when he got over a bump in his life, when he finally had the courage to let go and revert to himself again; life would be an asshole. Harry would lose the next thing he cherished. It was a curse he had to live with and he hated every moment of it. Every bump would discourage him and he would slowly lose motivation to continue. And just when the love of his life was taken away. Harry had lost his only motivation to wake up.

He felt the heat of his tears clinging against his cheeks. His breaths became ragged as his cries died down to silence. He couldn't move. The boy who lived was mentally and physically tired to do anything anymore. His eyes were bloodshot from crying while his cheeks were streaked with tears that had crusted. Harry carefully removed his glasses with shaky fingers. He knew this would happen, that he would lose the next thing he loved. But he had fallen for it again, he had found love again and he lost it. This was the last time though. He wouldn't love again, he couldn't risk it. Harry had lost too much to go through the same cycle of loss, it was too painful and he didn't think he could handle it for another time. The damage would be too much. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to pull out from the darkness of his thoughts. He tried to stop himself from caring anymore, from becoming too emotional. Harry thought if he distanced himself from everyone, from everything, he would finally become detached.

That was until he helped him, Tom Riddle. The boy that had changed him entirely within seconds. He was everything he wasn't. He was extraordinary in a way, simply... beautiful. And he had lost him too.

 _His belongings were scattered across the floor among with his wand._

 _It was all because of the tournament that he was miserable. Ever since his name was announced from the goblet, his reality became more of a nightmare than it already was. Even his friends turned on him, his own house! Everyone either avoided or hurt him in a way, whether physically or verbally. There was no in between._

 _Harry protested, kicked and punched but he was overpowered. They had pushed him easily like a rag doll, as if he wasn't even a living being and threw him beneath the floor boards. He heard the dragging of desks that ended up weighing on the boards. He slammed desperately at the wood above his head, pleading to let him go as he watched the wood curve from their mocking jumps with laughter._

 _He knew they wouldn't bother, but he wanted to believe at least. It was futile, and so he stopped trying as he grew breathless from the lack of air. He felt his chest begin to constrict. The laughing died down and everything stilled as they no longer heard the struggled cries from the boy who lived. "Come one Potter! Don't be such a wanker!" They grew nervous as they heard no response._

 _"Whatever, let him rot," they abandoned him entirely, leaving him trapped in the darkness. The scurrying of footsteps faded into the hallways. Harry felt helpless without his wand. He couldn't do anything for himself. It was always the same, he expected changes but life wasn't going to feel sorry for him. No, he received the same treatment from the muggle and wizarding world. They all treated him badly. The only difference was that there was magic._

 _The weight of his lids became heavy and heavier. He closed his eyes tiredly and rolled his head to the side, pressing his cheek against the cold ground ridden of dirt. His chest had risen slowly as his thoughts became steady to even notice the creaking of the boards above him. A stream of light attacked his vision, but he was too tired to do anything. He opened his eyes briefly, only to see the image of a familiar Slytherin. He felt his weight being lifted carefully and the heat he longed for spread across his body._

 _Harry vaguely remembered waking up in his bed that night._

Harry was entranced, compelled after their first informal meeting. They soon found themselves oddly enjoying each other's presence. The continued interaction between the duo surprised many. Though, they all took it as pity the Slytherin felt towards the outcasted Gryffindor; and so it escalated into something different. Their conversations were something Harry always looked forward to. With every encounter, his longing for the other only grew.

It frightened him. He wasn't scared because he was attracted to an individual that wasn't of the opposite sex. In fact, the wizarding world were less prejudice against the thought of actively seeking those of the same sex, compared to the muggles. No, it was very different. Harry was afraid that he would lose Tom somehow no matter how platonic their relationship seemed. He was afraid his emotions would get the best of him and he would be hurt again. That the next time he would be hurt, he would do something rash that he would instantly regret the moment it was done.

They were an odd dynamic of sort. Harry wasn't sure when he started to feel affectionate towards the slytherin himself. He was genuinely surprised when the realization had hit him, that the only thing he could think about was Tom Riddle everything. Harry was confused when he had a moment to sort his thoughts. He never had a preference towards men. He simply had a preference towards Tom under that category.

Harry didn't know how to act when he found out that he held feelings that went beyond those that were simply platonic. He began to notice things that were never there before, and it drove him mad to the very core.

The boy watched the older slytherin's mouth move on their own as his voice died in the background. His ample lips pressed together like two ripe cherries. Harry found himself mesmerized by the simplicity of it. He could stare at the other boy for weeks and still be intrigued. Even the mere thought managed to surprise himself. Eventually, it didn't last as long as he had liked it to, "-are you listening?"

 _Harry flicked his attention back into reality, "I- sorry, what was that again?" Their eyes locked together, and suddenly it was for the longest time. He stared into a set of deep and lustrous darkness, like a forest pool under the shade of ancient oaks. Tom raised an elegant brow laced with amusement in his expression. He had been caught staring, but he couldn't help himself. Harry was astounded by how he managed to pull off being so perfect easily. It was almost like he didn't even had to try, breaking into no sweat really. And now he was gazing over the symmetrical structure of his face, tracing over to his sharp cheekbones and questioning the realness of Tom silently. He was tall and Harry could forgive that, but being handsome and overwhelmingly intelligent somehow irritated him. Tom Riddle was a genetic freak._

 _He was getting distracted, again._

 _"I-I uh..." Harry hastily risen from his seat, almost knocking his chair over. He was going to go mad if he stayed near the older boy any longer. The Gryfindor suddenly began to collect his things, ignoring tidiness all together. "I should um, get going-" as he turned his back from Riddle, he carelessly knocked into the fucking bookshelf. He flinched at this and snapped his eyes closed, expecting a load of books to come crashing down. Except It didn't happened. Siriously? (Sorry not sorry) Harry cracked his eyes open, only to meet dark rims curtained with thick lashes in return. Oh. This was something he didn't expect._

 _The Gryfindor took notice of the close proximity between him and Tom. He noticed the painful pounding against his ribs too. Harry raised his gaze to find large hands clasped against the books that had once threatened to fall. This was what he got for being short. Harry felt like a damsel in distress, and he hated it. "T-thanks..." the untamed quivering of his voice wasn't helping either. It came out barely above a whisper. Why was he acting like this? He was conflicted and he didn't know what to feel. He was confused, and beyond embarrassed. He shouldn't be acting this way, it was nothing to get flustered about. He had faced dementors and even Voldemort for Merlin's sake! It wasn't as if this was the first time they were this close. So why was it any different?_

 _His breathing escalated when the other made no move to step away. Instead, Tom had surprised again. The basterd always found a way to surprise him. Tom stepped forward, closing the little distance between them. There was a spark that ignited within him and he felt time had slowed down. Their chests pressed dangerously against each other, "I don"t understand you."_

 _Harry felt all the blood rise to his cheeks, "I... what's t-there to not understand?" He stuttered, avoiding the other's gaze like a flustered school girl. It was only a few seconds ago was he staring thoughtfully at the boy, now he didn't know where to look. He cursed inwardly. What the hell was Tom doing? His thoughts were interrupted by the soft chuckling he felt against him. Harry sucked in a breath. Tom was thoroughly enjoying seeing him like this. He tried not to roll his eyes at this._

 _When he saw the Slytherin stretch his arm to him, he instantly felt his shoulder's stiffen. Tom brushed his knuckles against his cheek, trailing to the tip of his chin tenderly. No... it was almost possessive. His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes briefly. He should move away, but he found himself glued to the ground. The Gryfindor felt his chin lift, "look at me." Harry was incapable of forming coherent words. He was confused, yet it didn't feel wrong. It felt so right the way Tom's body easily melted into his. The way they exchanged heat was too compelling for him to move away._

 _Tom's sweet breath hovered teasingly above his lips as they stared into each other. The small gap drove him mad and he wanted to seize it. Harry wanted to grab him from the collar and just devour him already. The Gryfindor watched Tom flicked his gaze to his dry lips, and he lubricated them with his warm tongue instinctively. Tom groaned at the simple gesture and Harry felt a shiver rack up beyond his spine. He wasn't the only one that itched for the other. Harry craved only for Tom, and Tom wanted Harry. The hunger was mutual. Something flickered in the Slytherin's eyes and Harry didn't remember leaning in on the tips of his toes. Their lips came crashing down into each other desperately. It wasn't sweet, it was toxic and it was spilling everywhere. Though, it was slightly awkward. Tom was too tall for Harry and so he tugged on the Slytherin's tie, pulling him down to compensate for their height differences. Harry felt his legs loosened and Tom shifted his thigh between his. He wanted more of the older boy, he wanted to truly touch him. Harry groaned against his lips and held a handful of the Slytherin's robes, pulling him closer if it were physically possible._

 _He felt his breath hitch as Tom's knee rubbed against his groin and he threw his head back with a shudder. His grip on Tom tightened as he pushed his hips forward. The older boy brushed his lips from Harry's jaw to his flushed ears, "You're practically begging for it." He felt his arousal growing and Tom whispering pervertedly in his ear wasn't helping. But he was compelled to crane his neck to the side to make room for the other. He was fucking enjoying it._

 _Harry pressed his eyes close, too occupied with the painful bulge in his pants to really listen, "shut the fuck up." He could feel Tom smirking against his neck as he sucked at the sensitive skin skillfully. His breath grew heavier with every passing second as the Slytherin kissed and brushed his tongue along his untainted skin. Soft lips that he had watched for so long, waited so long to taste finally moved against his own. It was electrifying the way they clicked so naturally against his. He wanted more of it, more of Tom. Harry loosened his grip and pressed his palms against Riddle's broad chest, sliding up to wrap his arms possessively around his neck to deepen the kiss. Tom interfered and pushed his wrists against the bookshelf. His long fingers caressed his skin and moved delicately to intertwine with Harry's. He unintentionally let out a moan as Tom began to nip at his plum lips. The older Slytherin took advantage of this and slipped his tongue past his parted lips._

 _Harry's magic flared and whipped passionately, only to be tamed by the alluring touch of Tom's. It was intoxicating and he wanted time to stop forever. Eventually, Tom pulled away and breathed harshly, resting his forehead against Harry's as he watched him through half lidded eyes. Harry's lips were swollen and he wanted to continue savoring the sweet taste of Tom, if it weren't for catching his breath. They gazed into each other, panting in silence. It was intimate, yet it felt so surreal. "I don't understand how you do it," Tom muttered under his breath. The younger Gryfindor stared at the odd Slytherin quizzically, finally taking control of his breath. It felt so odd, almost foreign seeing Riddle take an expression outside of his usual mask. Tom Riddle was conflicted, and it bothered Harry that he was the one responsible for it._

 _No one easily made the boy feel so distressed._

 _Tom loosened his grip on Harry and he gulped at this as his gaze followed Tom's next actions. The Slytherin gingerly guided Harry's hand to press against his own chest. He felt the rapid beating of Tom's heart. It pumped softly against his palms to the tips of his fingers. The simplicity of it was... beyond words. The older teen didn't need to say anything else for Harry to understand. The boy who lived raised his gaze to meet Tom's with parted lips._

 _He felt the spark in his chest flutter for the first time._

Tom Riddle was gone and he could do nothing about it. All he could do was reminisce of how time stopped whenever he was with him, how his world was different when he had entered his life. Harry tried remembering how his life was before him, but he couldn't imagine it. Harry couldn't remember it and it had frustrated him. It frustrated him how Tom didn't mention anything to him about what he was dealing with. And it frustrated him on how he never got the chance to say goodbye.

 _The break had ended and Harry felt childish. He felt the sweat building up as his fingers curled around the letter. He had been thoughtful of the letter, carefully writing each word without blotting or spilling the ink. He would tell Tom how he really felt, how much he meant to him._

 _Hordes of students began to pass him, conversing about what they did over the holidays. Harry grew nervous as the crowd of students entering the hall increased. His fingers became sweaty and he grew jittery. He couldn't stop pacing or fiddling with his fingers. He didn't know how to express his feelings without stuttering or completely embarrassing himself. Harry thought a letter would be the best way of doing it, even though it made him uncomfortable writing it._

 _Harry never was one for talking about his feelings. He never had to deal with such things before and because of that, it had made him awkward when he came face to face with it. Especially after being introduced into the wizarding world and meeting all these new people, he didn't knew how to react. No one had ever payed attention to him, he was always ignored. The people that cared for him, which he never did understand, always found a way to surprise him._

 _It was funny how fast his life had changed for the better, and just as easily it could be all taken away. He was the center of attention, but people ignored him. It was contradictory, but who was he to question any of it? The wizarding world never did made much sense. Now that he thought about it, nothing really did make sense to Harry, especially Tom. He was the obedient kid that everyone loved, but there was always something that bothered him. He would smile, but not his eyes. They were empty and Harry saw himself in them. The Gryfindor never suspected himself falling head over heals for the older kid, and it made him laugh. They were both so very different, yet the same in so many ways._

 _The crowd of students became less and he felt his anticipation thinning. The letter, his confession crumpled between his fingers. Where was Tom?_

AN/ This was a pain in the ass to write and I have no motivation to properly finish this one shot yet. Maybe I'll complete a part two in the future, who knows? This was roughly inspired by Alan Turings life, only bits of pieces though.


	2. Back To Black

**You went back to what you knew**  
 **So far removed from all that we went through**  
 **And I tread a troubled track**  
 **My odds are stacked**  
 **I'll go back to black**  
 **-Amy Winehouse**

"-Harry, are you listening?" Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. She had invited him into eating with her; if inviting meant showing up at his doorstep and practically kidnapping him. Harry brushed his unmanageable hair with shaky fingers. It was all too much, and her pressuring wasn't helping him. His friend watched him silently, giving him the time he needed. She rested her hand against his and he lifted his chin to meet her gaze. She stretched a short smile in his direction, "You know, I'll always be here for you," it was a statement.

Harry wasn't sure how long he was holding his breath for. His chest began to constrict with every exhale, "I know, it's just-"

"This isn't the first time..." she finished. Harry nodded his head slowly. Something flickered in her gaze; he practically heard the gears turning in her head. "How long has this been going on for?" she asked, digging her gaze in his. Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. As she saw he wouldn't answer, she opened her mouth to demand again.

"Hermione, please- I just can't, not now," Harry responded before she could say anything else. She narrowed her eyes at him for some time. Her expression softened before settling back into her seat with a sigh; knowing he wouldn't give her what she wanted. It was known that when Harry Potter made his decision, nothing could change his mind.

Harry waved for the waiter, indicating to refill their drinks. The server stepped near their table and poured their drinks halfway. Harry gestured to continue filling his until it was full. The women sent a careful glance at his direction and obliged before resuming to the other tables. Hermione said nothing of this as he downed his glass in one gulp. He felt the warmth engulf his chest as his shoulders became less tense.

After some silence, she decided to break it, "do you wanna talk about it?" Harry flicked his attention at her, before returning to his empty glass.

He felt his mouth go dry, "I give him everything, Hermione..." he paused, "and he just throws it all away." He ran his index finger against the rim of the glass in circular motions. "Do you know how that makes me feel, knowing that he's playing around with other blokes?" Harry finished with tired eyes.  
Hermione said nothing before replying hesitantly, "Ron's just like that, he takes but-"

"But that's just Ron," he retorted instantly. "Tom is different, he isn't oblivious. He knows when to take advantage of something that's given," Harry explained with exasperation. He removed his glasses gingerly and massaged his temples.

"Is that why he won't stop?" her voice softened, piecing everything together.

Harry wiped his lenses with the hem of his shirt before returning them to their rightful place, "It's not that he won't... he just can't." Harry thought that maybe if he gave him more, that he would stop; that Tom would stop hurting him. That maybe he would finally realize that Harry was all he needed.

"Why do you let him do this to you, Harry?" Hermione asked, almost with exasperation quivering in her voice. Harry had noticed. He knew that she cared for him, but he couldn't make himself look up to see the disappointment in her eyes. Harry stopped fidgeting and thought carefully as the question repeated in a loop in his head. Why did he put up with Tom?

 _"what?" he snapped with folded arms._

 _Harry arched a brow at his sudden lash, "aren't you gonna join me?" The other said nothing as he tugged at his own scarf. To Tom's dismay, Harry barked out with laughter, almost as if he realized something. "You've never skated before?" he said with increased amusement. It was a statement._  
 _"Quiet," he had struck a chord, pushing Tom into losing his composure. He was already angry about the poor service they received at the resturant earlier. Harry wasn't helping his mood._

 _"Tom Riddle doesn't know how to skate," Harry teased as he fluidly glided his way to the other's direction._

 _Tom sneered, "I heard you the first time, You don't need to make it public."_

 _Harry only smirked at this, "sorry, it just never occurred to me that you were human." Despite their playful nature, Harry was genuinely surprised of his new findings. Tom was known for his limitless capabilities. The fact that Tom couldn't do something as elementary as this, only heightened his amusement._

 _"You're an idiot," he stated with exasperation, barely stopping the smile that twitched at the corners of his playfully offered an arm, "my lord." Tom arched a brow at this before pulling Harry to his side. Barely a few seconds on the ice and the other had already lost his balance, tightening his grip on the shorter male. Harry snickered and Tom had sent him a disapproving glance, "alright, you had your fun."_

 _"Come on," the shorter male guided him to the center of the rink, "we've only just started!" Tom nearly slipped at Harry's abruptness and actually yelped. Harry threw his head back back at the foreign action and linked his fingers with his lover._

 _The ice wind whipped at them furiously, lashing their skin into a bright hue of vermilion. Harry stopped himself and watched the snow swaying effortlessly above them; holding his scarf from escaping into the wind. It was a sight. The moon reflected off the surface of the glittering flakes, almost making the air around them glow. Tom watched mesmerized and exhaled softly. He stepped forward, only to pitifully lose his step, again. He clung onto the nearest thing out of instinct. Unfortunately, Harry just so happened to be the only thing near. He pulled Harry down along with him as they both cried before hitting the ice. Harry found his flushed body weighing against the other, smirking at Tom's unusual clumsiness. The man rolled his eyes, which only provoked Harry into laughing._

 _Harry sighed and pulled himself up, straddling Tom's torso as he gazed into the man beneath him. Tom watched him critically, not bothered by the uncomfortable position. He sat there motionless as Harry Watched him thoughtfully. He observed the snow melting delicately into Tom's skin as he blinked up at him, almost with anticipation flickering in his eyes. Harry stared pensively, exploring Tom with his fingertips dragging across his supple skin. He trailed slowly along the line of his jaw, pressing his thumb to caress his pointed cheekbones. Tom exhaled softly and closed his eyes, brushing his thick lashes among his cheeks. His thumb tickled his skin towards the bow of Tom's lush lips. Harry watched his chest rise and fall gently as his symmetrical crescents parted against his touch._  
 _Tom returned his vision on him, watching through half lidded eyes. His tongue brushed past his lips, licking teasingly against the skin of his thumb. Harry internally sucked in a breath, feeling a sense of arousal rack up beyond his spine. They were alone on the ice, which Harry was thankful for. He would've been beyond embarrassed if they had spectators._

 _His attention was dragged back into reality with a hand caressing his scalp. Harry followed the arm of the hand to meet Tom's predatory eye's. Harry was compelled and craned his neck down, drawing closer to meet his lover's lips. It was sensual, exhilarating even. Their tongues brushed against each other as Tom nipped at his lips. Despite literally topping the older man, Tom always found a way to preserve himself as dominant. He always found a way to make Harry shake to the very core. It was terrifying that he always found himself under his sway, yet, it was beyond thrilling, and he found himself enjoying it._

 _Harry was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against Tom's as he held him possessively. He stared tentatively at Tom, almost in a daze. It was blatantly obvious that Harry wasn't a virgin. He was well familiar with the body of both men and women. But despite his string of past lover's, no one came close to making Harry feel the way Tom did to him. It was different, none he had experienced before. It wasn't a bad feeling, it wasn't something that didn't fade despite their many years of knowing each other. It was only until recently did they initiated in seeing each other in a different manner, one that involved sharing a bed; and Harry was glad for that. He couldn't imagine a time where he was in bed with another, and he didn't want to. He was intoxicated by the very essence of Tom, and he didn't want to ever let go._

 _Harry closed his eyes and felt warm arms embracing his figure. It was then he realized, Tom was someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with._

"It's because... I love him, Hermione," Harry didn't notice the tears kissing his cheeks. It was truly the end for them, wasn't it? It was unhealthy what they were doing, Harry knew that. But he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it, to let go. Reminiscing his most cherished moments with Tom wasn't helping, it only tore him more apart emotionally. But there was still a part of him that wanted to hold on, that was barely holding on to the rope with bloodied fingers. Because he still loved Tom. His unusual dedication was the only thing that prevented him from leaving.

It was overwhelming, and he had barely stopped the choked sobs that were suppressed for far too long. When was the last time he cried? Harry felt truly pathetic that he allowed it to go for this long. Every time he saw Tom with another, he would tell himself that was the last time, that he would come to terms in finally despising Tom. Yet, he only found himself breaking more, and more; because he loved the man too much. His love surpassed his hate, and that was what made him truly pathetic.

He felt warm arms wrapping around him, he heard whispers of comfort coming from Hermione. There was a time when Tom had held him like this, when he had made Harry his world. There was a time when Tom had made Harry feel loved, like no one had ever done before. Remembering was too painful, but he didn't fucking care. Harry would forever live in a lie, in those memories as Tom would continue to rip him apart. Everything was going going to be just fine.

 **We only said goodbye with words**  
 **I died a hundred times**  
 **You go back to her**  
 **And I go back to...**  
 **I go back to us**

AN/ I went out of my comfort zone writing this, I wanted to try something new and honestly, I'm a bit proud of this one. Thanks for reading!


	3. Devil In Disguise

**You fooled me with your kisses**  
 **You cheated and you schemed**  
 **Heaven knows how you lied to me**  
 **You're not the way you seemed**

 **-Elvis P.**

Harry limped towards the aged door barely hanging on its hinges. The sweat building between his fingers made it almost difficult to properly grip his wand. He exhaled a shaky breath and pushed his tousled hair from his vision. The Gryffindor was a mess. His glasses were crooked and already cracking. He removed them briefly and flicked his wand in the air, "Oculus Reparo," Harry muttered under his breath. A pleased smile slipped on his expression, which disappeared quickly as it came.

The shorter male stared at the door pensively. He licked his chapped lips, almost stalling in debate. It wasn't suppose to end like this. Harry had only one shot, and he blew it. He had failed everyone, and he blamed himself for it. Maybe because it had to do with his hero complex tendencies, he wasn't sure anymore.

Harry had failed Tom for pushing him away, and because of that, the Slytherin had done the one thing Harry was tasked in preventing. It was the one thing that he wanted more than ever to stop when he was given the chance to repeat time.

Tom was about to build his second Hocrux.

Harry thought he could stop it. He was confident that he could save Tom from himself, from the madness he was bound to become. He couldn't allow him to become that person again, that thing that destroyed him gruesomely. He believed in for the longest time that he accomplished just that, that maybe he wouldn't change into that serpentine creature. But he was wrong.

Harry was always wrong when it came to Tom, and he was slowly slipping away from his fingers, trickling like sand. He could feel it, and it tore Harry apart; more than Tom could imagine.

He had fallen in love with the one man he was not suppose to. Losing himself around Tom, behaving like a flustered teenager was never in his agenda, but it happened anyway. It seemed like fate really hated him. Of course, he didn't expect anything less. He was in fact fate's chew toy, anyways.

Harry had fallen head over heals with the dark lord in diapers, and it had it's consequences. He was more vulnerable than ever, and he was going to lose the next thing he loved. He wouldn't just isolate himself and lash at everyone he knew. No, it would be worse, and Harry was afraid of what he would do if he went through that kind of loss again. He was afraid that he would lose himself like Voldemort.

Harry felt his nails dig into his skin painfully. No, he wouldn't let it happen, like hell was Harry going to give up that easily without putting up a fight. Which was probably why he was barely trudging on his two feet. Tom had attacked him earlier when he had refused to move out of the way. Harry had tried to stop him from taking Guant's wand, in which he failed so miserably too.

The boy who lived should've known better not to underestimate Tom and his capabilities.

Harry peered down at his arm, staring at the inked words anxiously. It was a supposed gift from death. It was said to speak the last words the one he loved would say. It was the least Death could do, as it couldn't return him into his original timeline once he accomplished his task. The boy felt his mouth go dry. He clenched his eyes briefly in reassurance, everything was going to be fine.

He wiped the sweat cascading down his temple with the back of his hand as he pushed the door open. It creaked painfully loud, and he had to stop himself from cringing at this. He recognized the tall figure once his vision rested on his silhouette. Harry faced Tom's back, even he was handsome at this angle. The shorter male raised his wand in the air, cocking it at Tom's direction. "It seems I underestimated your abilities," the Slytherin across spoke softly, almost expecting his presence. Harry felt his shoulders tense at this.

"Or maybe you wanted me to see this," he replied under his breath, "to make me understand who you really are," Harry finished, gripping his wand tightly. The young dark lord gracefully twisted his body in Harry's direction, resting his sharp gaze at him almost clinically.

Something shifted in his expression, but quickly masked as it came. Harry knew better than to ignore it, he did not fail to miss it. "Don't be foolish," Tom retorted in return.

Harry stepped forward, still keeping a certain distance between them. "You think I don't know what you are?" The brunette questioned, but not with disappointment. There was anger wavering in his voice, and Tom noticed. "Who do you take me for, Tom? That I just fuck anyone with a pretty face?" Harry spat through gritted teeth.

Tom didn't react to this, still observing him with his unfazed expression, his damn facade. Harry hated this part of Tom. He always managed to make him feel insignificant in a way by masking his emotions. "Leave now," the taller male ordered simply.

"And let you ruin yourself? You think I'll leave you that easily?" Harry snapped with determination lathering in his voice. He wasn't going to lose him this time, he couldn't risk taking chances anymore.

Tom narrowed his dark eyes menacingly at Harry. The brunette held his tongue to stop himself from lashing out. Why couldn't Tom understand that he cared for him? Why couldn't he just take it as it was without trying to find a hidden meaning in everything Harry said? "Dont patronize me, I'm not a child for you to babysit," he hissed with irritation behind his words. "I've been alone all my life, I know better than anyone how to take care of myself," he finished through gritted teeth. Harry felt a twang of guilt creeping at his insides, and he hated how he couldn't change that one thing in Tom's life. It wasn't about stopping Tom from creating the Hocruxes anymore. It was about letting Tom know that he was wanted, that he didn't had to be alone anymore.

Harry felt his hand shake uncontrollably, and he gripped his wrist to stop this. He was at the brink of breaking down in front of Tom, but he couldn't allow himself to show weakness at this moment. He had to be strong, it was the least he could do for Tom, right now.

There was a distinct muffling in the background, and Harry flicked his vision at the origin of the sound. Behind Tom, there were three figures standing paralyzed on their feet. Harry couldn't help but stare at dark pools that were strikingly like Tom's. It was his father, and he was watching Harry through pleading eyes. He was Tom Riddle's doppelganger. The only difference between them were the fine lines of age. Harry glanced at the other two, in which he imagined were his grandparents. Their eyes were pink and swollen from crying. The Slytherin heir did not payed any attention to this a and casted a non-verbal silencing charm. This only agitated Harry.

"Stop this madness, Tom!" he finally shouted, almost begging. The taller male hummed at this, circling Harry carefully. His long fingers caressed his wand, almost like he was itching to use it. The Gryffindor clenched his jaw at this, positioning himself in defense.

"I have to do this," he replied simply. He made it out like it wasn't a choice, as if he was obligated to do so; and Harry realized that he truly believed in that.

Harry furrowed his brow at this. "No one makes us do anything... the decision is always ours," he answered softly. Tom came to a sudden halt, and watched Harry under his thick lashes. There was a long duration of silence, and it wasn't the uncomfortable kind. It was tense, and Harry felt the shift in Tom's magic. It was flickering like an untamed fire, like it was conflicted in a way.

"I won't ask again," he spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. Harry closed his eyes briefly, this was what he feared.

"And I refuse to watch you hurt yourself," Harry said in return. So this was it?

"Don't make me resort to physical means," Tom threatened, which didn't surprise the Gryffindor as much anymore. His magic flared, engulfing his entire being. Harry sucked in a heavy breath, feeling his knees threatening to buckle. It felt dangerous, yet it was intoxicating in a way. It made it almost difficult to breath.

No, Harry wasn't going to back down by intimidation.

"Nothing's stopping you, Tom," he said lastly, and it all went crashing.

Tom was the first to attack, whipping his arm in the air and firing off an illuminating violet orb, "Levicorpus!" Harry felt a wave of magic tightened near his chest. His entire body flipped, sweeping him off the ground as his skull bounced against the marble floor. He felt the blood rush into his head, pulsating his temples wildly while his ankles were snatched into the air.

Harry hissed in pain and threw his arm up quickly, pointing at his numb ankle to counter it, "Levicorpus!" Gravity came back to him and dropped his weight against the hard floor. Harry arched his back in pain from the sudden damage. Tom furrowed his brow in distaste at the results, and another spell came quickly as the other.

"Incarcerous!" a bundle of ropes flew in the brunette's direction, intending to bind his arms from using his wand.

Harry slashed the air before the ropes could reach him, "Diffindo!" they dropped instantly into two pieces, and he pushed himself off the ground before Tom could cast another attack. Harry waved his wand and a large explosion erupted near Tom's figure. The Slytherin shielded himself with his arm at the blinding light. Pieces of burning paper flapped in the air and surrounded his tall figure, sticking to his face to block his vision.

Harry sprinted towards the full body binded trio and waved his wand in counter clockwise motions to remove the curse. Tom attempted to snatch the sheets of paper from his skin, only to realize there was a sticking charm in place. The Slytherin glowered at this and countered the affects of the spell just as easily.

Before Harry could complete the spell, his body flew back and collided with the nearest wall. Tom approached him smugly until Harry shouted a spell he learned from the twins. "Fumos!" a mossy fog engulfed the room and clouded everyone's vision. The scent was beyond words, which he expected no less from Hogworts greatest pranksters since the Mauraders. The smell threatened bile to crawl up Harry's throat.

Of course, Tom circled his wand in the air, shouting an incantation, "Lumos solem!" A sharp light pierced through the fog and shattered the windows. Harry ducked behind a desk to sheild himself from the flying shards.

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed, anymore. It was a cycle. Him or Tom would cast a spell and the other would counter it just as easily. The brunette would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that the Slytherin was indeed advanced in his magic. Harry had witnessed a handful of his duels, and it was almost condescending. But there was a sort of passion flickering in the other's eyes, almost expectant of Harry, and it conflicted the Gryffindor.

Tom had considered Harry as his equal.

There wasn't a lazy feel of arrogance to the flick of his wand, but a challenge. The Slytherin expected Harry to battle him with the best of his abilities, and the shorter male couldn't help but not disappoint the other.

It was always like that with Tom. The young man always made Harry feel obligated to please him in a way. And who was there to blame? Tom was like a star, and it embarrassed Harry to admit such an absurd thing out loud. The cunning male was out of reach for the Gryffindor. He was simply too much for him, which motivated Harry to catch up, that he could be great too. He never noticed the brightness in him at first, because he could only see him as Voldemort; which went on for the longest time. But it changed, eventually.

The closer Harry got, the more blinding the light was, if not dangerous in a way. The illumanace was compelling, intoxicating in a way. One glimpse was all it took to end someone. It was human nature to seek the things they don't have, to be near the light; and Tom was exactly that light.

The Slytherin was undeniably destined for greatness, everyone saw that. Naturally, the closer one got to a light source, the more they were prone to burning; and Harry was victim to the flames.

Stars were beautiful from a distance, but there was a reason why no one could go near them. Because they were simply too bright for the eye, too dangerous to touch. It was a pity that many had believed they were above the fire Tom had. Of course, there were consequences for their illusion of self importance. They had burned too.

It was sad that no one saw the true nature of the Slytherin. He was indeed a star. Only in the dark did he shone brightly, without it, the light was fairly useless; and Tom believed in just that. His self importance relied on it, and it pained Harry.

Tom was exactly like a black sea devil. He flashed his light to his advantage, drawing his prey with false attraction. The closer they got, the more visible was the creature behind the sweet image they desired. Before they could realize the façade of the creature dangling the light in front of them, it would already be too late. Tom would capture his prey through careful calculation, at a well timed moment when they were too tangled to escape. His hold was iron, making it almost impossible to leave.

When a fish swam up, they were quickly inhaled, and trapped by long, sharp teeth.

A sharp pain ceased Harry from dodging, he felt his knees buckle beneath his weight. It was all a blur, and he had forgotten he was battling Tom. He collapsed into the marble floor, writhing and arching his back in pain. The room echoed only of his suffering, and he was barely breathing at this point. His vision began to blur and block spots appeared, enlarging in seconds.

"Redactum skullus," Harry heard a voice mutter. He had no energy to move, panting under each breath. His chest raised and fell heavily, as he landed his gaze on a tall figure looming over his body.

Tom crouched near his pathetic display. "You cannot hinder me from what I musty do," he finally interrupted the silence between them, wipng the blood from the Gryffindor's cheeks. He simply stared, with a thoughtful frown.

Harry couldn't bring himself to be angry, even though he had every right to be. He was known for his short tempers, but he just couldn't; not now. Tom trailed his gaze to Harry's shaky fingers that curled and intertwined with the Slytherin's. The other boy was still silet, almost trying to figure out Harry. He watched the bloodied fingers desperately clinging onto the slytherin, silently asking him not to leave. "Please, Tom..." He croaked, barely above a whisper. The tall male was motionless, almost as if he didn't know how to respond. "D... don't," he paused between breaths, struggling to speak, "do t-this," he finished, and it ached.

Tom began to rise, until another hand grasped a handful of his cloak. The Slytherin reacted this time, watching in surprise. His expression shifted, almost softening? "you never know when to give up," he muttered, almost to himself.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at this, which came out more as a cough. He locked his gaze into dark eyes, and Tom noticed something different. It wasn't the blood, nor the dirt that riddened that was different. It was Harry's eyes, and Tom flinched when they landed on him. There was an intensity to them, which managed to confuse Tom.

"That's what you usually do when... you love someone," Harry confessed jokingly, but there was an edge of seriousness in his expression. Harry noticed the suddenly too even breaths coming from the other. He was trying to hide himself again. Of course, Tom didn't know how to handle sentiment of any sort other than greed, envy, lust, and wrath.

It was the first time Harry had told anyone he loved them out loud, and it was the first time Tom was told this.

Tom glided his fingers tips across Harry's neck, trailing to his cheeks. His thumb gently pressed against his cheek bones, sliding to the scalp of his head. The intensity was beyond words. Harry was conscious of everything about Tom, like it was the first time they touched. He peered at him under his lashes, and then he was kissing him. It was different, everything was. His lips were soft, and his hold on Harry was feather like. It was consuming, and the Gryffindor trembled with every contact. None of them moved away. It was like each action was calculated, desperately trying not to hold of each other. Harry clung onto him with everything he had, begging with each grasp. He was silently telling him not to leave.

It was soft, sensuous, and warm. It was overwhelming, and he was losing his breath. Tom's lips molded into his perfectly, and Harry couldn't think of anything else. It wasn't any sort of kiss that they had shared before, and Harry didn't feel himself shying away this time. It wasn't awkward, it was simply just. All the frustration, the anger, the fights they had was a faded memory. It was surreal, and he couldn't remember the causes of their arguments. All he could remember was the purpose of him and Tom.

Harry was falling hard, and it was painful.

Tom pulled away. The loss of contact felt like the worse seconds of his life, because the coherent thoughts were coming back.

Tom was fading away.

They were silent. "Tom," He spoke softly. Tom merely pressed a gentle kiss against his temple, caressing his cheeks with long fingers. And Harry clenched his eyes at this. No, nothing- anything but this.

No, he wasn't going to do it.

But Harry felt the warmth, the sound of soft heels painfully moving away. Harry tried to cast another spell from his position, but his wand refused to accept his magic. Of course, he was too unstable to do any magic at the moment, his wand couldn't filter it.

Harry rolled his head to the side, pressing his cheek against the cold floor. Please no. "You're better than this, damn it!" He found himself shouting, screaming to stop. Tom only ignored this, paying attention to the three muggles that abandoned him and his mother.

His shouting dimmed at a level, transitioning into sobs. Hot tears streamed and kissed his cheeks. "I c-can't," Harry choked, "I don't want to lose anyone anymore!" He cried louder than before.

Tom clenched his eyes close, trying to ignore the cries from Harry. It pained him more than he imagined. He swallowed a lump down his throat, gripping his wand in determination.

So that was it? It was all for nothing, then?

 _"-your out of character today," Tom commented, finally looking up from his work. Harry flicked his vision away from the Daily Prophet, and simply stared at the Slytherin. He was finally giving the Gryffindor the attention he desperately needed. The boy raised himself from his seat, steadily approaching Tom. "what are you-"_

 _"shut up," he tugged his tie, and devoured his lips._

Tom slowly raised his wand in the air, pointing it at his father.

Did his efforts went wasted?

 _There was an intense silence between them. It was loud of unspoken words. Harry dropped his weight on the carpet, only to rest his head against Tom's knees. It only took a second for The Slytherin to drag his hand through Harry's hair._

 _It was moments like these that reminded them of how much they care for each other. It was their way of declaring their love._

"Forgive me, Harry," he whispered. The boy who lived watched with wide eyes, struggling to push himself from the floor.

"NO!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A loud thump landed on the ground.

Green light reflected from Harry's pupils, blending in with his irises. There was a loud ringing in the brunette's ears. He swayed on his feet before falling to the ground again. His left arm ached, burned even. He peered at the glowing ink stained on his arm. 'Avada Kedavra' it said. Those were his last words, and Harry cradled his arm to his chest with a cry.

Tom was truly gone, lost to the madness of immortality. Harry had given his love too late.

They really were alike in the end. The only difference was that Harry deserved love. Tom was the one that needed love the most.

"Tom, you idiot..."

 **I thought that I was in heaven**  
 **But I was sure surprised**  
 **Heaven help me, I didn't see**  
 **The devil in your eyes**

AN

Don't mind me, Im just crying in a corner.


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